


Happy, Heavy, Free

by SolitaryEngel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 13:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17426591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryEngel/pseuds/SolitaryEngel
Summary: Harry's just celebrated another win with his coworkers when he gets an urgent Patronus — someone from his "Person of Special Interest" form is in trouble.





	Happy, Heavy, Free

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present form me to you :D
> 
> Just a little fun thing.

# Happy, Heavy, Free

* * *

* * *

    They were on a _break._ It was _only_ supposed to be a break.

    The interloper stood. “Maybe I should go.”

    “Sit down,” Ginny snapped.

    “O-okay, Gin…”

    Harry’s eyes narrowed at the man. _He_ called her Gin. No one else had ever been allowed. Then _he_ sat there, brown hair thinning, shoulders broader than Harry could bespell his own to be, calling himself Ginny’s _boyfriend._

    Well, Ginny had called him that. The man — Mark, very common name, not that he had much room to complain — had been quite cowed in his presence. For once, Harry relished it. Fear me, he thought, glaring into the man’s brown eyes. For Merlin’s sake, even his _clothes_ were brown. He was like a reincarnation of Remus, but without the benefit of the werewolf’s startling topaz eyes. Or the poverty. Harry squinted further. Stupid rich wanker.

    “Get a hold of yourself,” Ginny hissed. “We broke up almost a year ago —”

    “A break! You said it was a break!” Harry whisper-yelled back.

    “No, _you_ said it was a break. _I_ said it wasn’t working out and I wasn’t coming back. _Really,_ Harry are you telling me that _you_ haven’t been with anyone else for this whole time? Don’t be a hypocrite!”

    “I haven’t,” he said firmly. “I was waiting for work to die down — for you to come back from tour —”

    “I have been off tour,” she said drily, “for three months now. Remember? How _I’ve_ been at the Burrow all the same times you have? The season is starting up again and I have no intention of hiding Mark anymore, just to salve _your_ wounded ego —”

    “ _Anymore_?” Harry demanded. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

    “Five months,” Mark said then, voice unexpectedly steady considering his cowardly behavior thus far. “We decided to give it a go two months before the season ended, and now we’re going to go back on, and we’re staying together.”

    Harry buried his head in his hands. He didn’t know why he was having a hard time with this, to be honest. He was up to his neck with it at work, he didn’t even really want to start up with Ginny again. Maybe he just wanted her to never move on. Maybe his ego _was_ bruised that someone so ordinary could have taken the place in her heart that had belonged to him since before she’d even learned how to properly raise her wand. He’d always wanted to be ordinary.

    “Alright, Gin,” he said, then winced. “Ginny,sorry — I’ll work on that — alright. So, how did you two meet then?”

    Ginny visibly relaxed, though her eyes still flashed in challenge as she told him about the kind photographer’s assistant who interceded for her when his boss had spoken crudely about her body a few times too many.

    Harry could respect that. He could also respect that the photographer had been fired and Mark had been quietly offered his position, and was doing very well in his place. He could care for Ginny, and provide for her. He wouldn’t drag her into danger, and they would be together for every game _—_ his lens intently focused on seeing her every good side. She’d always wanted Harry to notice hers, to see her success.

    With what he was dealing with at the Ministry, he just couldn’t prioritize Quidditch anymore.

    “I’m happy for you,” he said finally. He almost meant it. Mostly he was just sad for himself. It had been a while since he’d seen a new couple. He was so used to everyone being paired, and Ginny and himself being _on break_. He’d forgotten how nice the beginning of a relationship was, until he saw them _—_ saw the hope and wonder in their eyes.

    Harry sighed.

 

* * *

 

 

    “Harry.”

    He glanced at the face regarding him from a a cubicle three down and one across from his own. Ginnons looked slighty nervous, eyes darting across the tops of the other partitions. He’d almost failed the stealth portion of the Stealth and Tracking training. It showed, in moments like this.

    “What is it?” Harry asked as he drew close, speaking low and minimizing the sound of his consonants so as to not be overheard. _He_ had passed with flying colors.

    “We have it. Money from subject 12 to member 4.”

    “Absolute proof?” Harry asked then, leaning over to see the parchment held tightly by his coworker. And there it was, another corruption about to be removed from the Wizengamot.

    “Perfect,” he said with a tight smile. “Come with me, right away.”

    Ginnons followed him easily. The man was much taller than himself; Harry’s very best ground-eating strides were probably akin to a little chihuahua’s mince to him. Harry comforted himself with the fact that the man froze sometimes on the field and therefore was not given the lead position on any big assignments yet, even though he’d been working for the department a good six years longer than Harry. In that, he won.

    Harry knocked on Robards door before pushing it open, heedless of response.

    “Auror —” the man said warningly, until he saw Harry’s victorious face.

    “Ginnons got member 4. We got him.”

***

    “Cheers!” Full pints of mixed beverages clanked into each other, making a satisfying mess all over the table and their hands before they guzzled the first cheer down.

    “I must say, working in the Ministry is almost bearable these days,” Ron said then. “Good on you, Ginnons.”

    “Hear, hear!” Harry chimed in, smiling. His Butterbeer had a splash of Gillywater in it from someone else’s tankard, but he didn’t mind. He was of the same mind as Ron. There was still so much more work to be done, but between Minister Kingsley, Robards, Hermione and all the cooperative workers behind the scenes they would not have gotten near as much trash out of the government as they’d been able to. There was light on the horizon.

    “Alright, best get back to the wife,” Ron said after an hour in an aggrieved tone. Harry gave him a smile and a nod, though he was planning on staying through to the end. This was, of course, completely derailed by Robard’s gorilla Patronus leaping onto the table in the middle of all of them.

    “Potter, Weasley, report immediately for a person of interest trapped within a potions explosion. Injuries unknown.”

    “Well, that’s that,” Harry sighed. “You guys have fun, try not to bring the place down.”

    Various laughing boos and complaints arose in response to that and he chuckled as well, shaking hands and patting shoulders. “A good job all, really. It’s a pleasure to celebrate with you every time, even if I just sit on my arse the whole investigation…”

    “Oh, get on, Potter, before Robards gives your ‘person of interest’ to someone else,” Ginnons called out.

    “You were really going to stay the whole time?” Ron asked curiously as they headed to the Disapparition zone.

    “Yeah. Robards said he was eyeing me for the Head position when he leaves. Trying to make connections with the team before that may happen.”

    “He’s leaving?”

    “I think he either wants to be Head of the MLE or nothing at all, at this point.”

    “Yeah. I guess the job has changed a lot for him since the end of the war… and you pretty much doing his job for him with these investigations.”

    “I’ve heard no complaints.”

    “No? I have. Everytime we nail one, they complain all the way to the holding cell.”

    “Cheers. Ready?”

    “Yeah let’s go. _Apparate!_ ”

    “Aurors, thank you for coming in,” Robards said formally. “We have a trapped citizen in his home, separated from his wand and surrounded completely by a failed experimental potion. His neighbors who had gotten close have been affected by the fumes, the citizen has been compromised as well.

    “You should know that this is a high priority case. This citizen was working on a potion for the Department at the time of the explosion.”

    “Do we know the potions effects?” Harry cut in, mind racing through the various steps he’d need to take depending on the injuries. There was only one potion maker listed on his form. He couldn't screw this up.

    “It was an antidote.”

    “To what?” Ron put in, irritated. “Sir if the brewer is trapped _now —”_

    “The citizen was working on an antidote to the Potter-specific Amortentia we’ve been plagued with.”

    “So… he is —”

    “Currently in love with you, yes.”

    Harry sighed. He’d gotten real good at letting out stress that way. Stress comes in, Harry breathes it away. “Thank you for letting Ron and I handle it ourselves, sir.”

    “I figured the teasing would be counterproductive for your career development,” their boss said wryly. “Better get a move on, gentlemen. The location is in Cokeworth, neighborhood is called Spinner’s End. Are you familiar with it?”

    Harry closed his eyes, his throat tugging down, though he didn’t speak. He didn't know the man was still living there. How awful.

    “We’re familiar,” Ron said then. “Anything you need to grab, Harry?”

    “No,” he said, opening his eyes and flicking his wand out of his wrist holster into his palm. “Let’s go.”

    “ _Apparate!_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

    “You handle these guys,” Harry said quietly once they’d touched down. A small crowd of Muggles clustered around the outside of the dilapidated rowhouse, all the other identical brick faces ignored for the one that had shimmering mist emerging from all the windows and vents. “I don’t think he’d want anyone to see him like this, and I’ve already seen more than he wanted anyway.”

    Ron gave him a commiserating clap to the shoulder and went forward, calling out to the addled Muggles and subduing them for the Obliviation and Magic Reversal Squads to take care of.

    Stress came in, and Harry breathed it out. He cast the incantation for the Bubble-Head Charm and crossed the street, continuing until he entered the house. The air shimmered stronger there, and Harry could see a clear trail where the sparkles thickened, spiraling hypnotically out of an open door with stairs leading down.

    “Master Snape?” he called, trodding down the stairs carefully, avoiding stepping on the splashes that he could see in the dim lighting.

    “Harry?”

    The hope and wonder in the tone was so, so foreign.

    “I’m here,” he said cautiously. “I’m going to try to get you free.”

    There he was, still huddled in a dry corner. Potion-marked robes cast aside, he was in his pants, a much crisper version that the grey pair he’d been wearing in his Pensieve memory, and shoes still covered his feet. Harry tried not to stare at his partial nudity and focused on his face which appeared to have had a hasty cleaning charm applied to half of it. The potion had probably taken affect before he could clear it fully, Harry guessed. By then, he wasn't thinking clearly.

    “Did you ingest any?” Harry asked gently. It was hard to be stern when Snape was looking at him like that.

    “No,” Snape responded. Harry could see the fight in him. Occlumency could partially fight the effects of love potions, but he’d been trapped, aspirating the fumes for over an hour now. He didn’t want Harry, but _did_ too. “Bubble-Head Charms don’t work, by the way.”

    “Well, I guess I can stand to love myself a little more,” Harry quipped.

    This was the most they’d talked in years. Snape had avoided him at all costs. He’d been so vehement about it that when Harry tried to return his memories the man had thrown them across the room, and they’d shattered, lost. Harry had fallen to his knees in grief, Snape had Disapparated.

    Snape wasn’t prickly now.

    “Snape.” His tone was off. His whole _being_ was off. He didn't love himself any more than before. “What happens if I breathe these fumes?”

    “You’ll attach yourself to the first person you see.”

    Snape’s gaze was pleading. Harry didn’t know if it was for Harry to turn away for to keep staring… to stare at no one else, ever again…

    “Where’s your wand? My Occlumency never improved,” Harry said desperately. “Accio Severus Snape’s wand!”

    Out of the goop covering Snape’s workbench came a pearl-coated stick, and it slapped wetly into Harry’s palm. As the white potion dripped through his fingers the man in the corner let out a low, pained sound.

    “I’m sorry,” he said, eyeing his hand greedily. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. There’s a secondary effect.”

    Harry stared at him in horror as flame tongues of sensation rapidly spread from the point of contact, down his arm, into his chest, and _Merlin_ , further down, warming his stomach, thighs, and pelvis as blood suffused the area.

    “I’m sorry,” Snape said again. “It is a particularly malignant potion. I’m sorry.”

    Harry thought his ‘sorry’s’ were actually ‘please’s.’

    He descended down the stairs.

    “What do you want?” he whispered, halting halfway across the room.

    “Cancel the Bubble-Head Charm.”

    Harry obeyed mindlessly. The fumes entered his lungs unfettered, but it was too late, they’d already gotten hold of him as soon as he’d seen the former professor vulnerable and alone.

    “There’s no hope,” Snape said then, the fight still strong enough for him to think logistically, to warn Harry. “I’ve been exposed too long. I want you.”

    Harry’s eyelashes fluttered. “ _Colloportus,_ ” he cast behind him. The door slammed and squelched shut and Snape was glittering at him — those deep, dark eyes reaching into him, promising everything, everything, everything.

    “Will we die?” Harry said then, the last important thing. “Stuck in this room, covered in potion forever? If it saves _you_ I’ll be able to stop.”

    “When we are hungry enough the potion will make us stop,” Snape said, though he was leaning slightly away from the wall… towards Harry. “The obsession will make sure we take care of each other, even beyond the compulsive lust aspect.”

    “I want you, too,” Harry whispered.

    Snape shoved out of the corner and collided fully with him, their feet sliding in the potion coating the floor and then _all_ of them sliding as they fell, holding tightly as if the other was precious, precious, so vital to their existence.

    “Kiss me,” Snape pleaded. “I need i—”

    Harry was there, covering his mouth clumsily until they figured out exactly where the other’s lips were and how to move just right against each other. Snape’s hand touched his face lightly, potion smearing where it alighted, but the effect was already inside Harry; his blood had been set to boil back on the stairs.

    “You’re perfect,” Snape breathed. “I knew it. I knew so long. Perfect.”

    Harry felt such relief as the older man’s mouth tasted his own — so lightly, as if he were the finest delicacy, as if Harry _must_ be savored — that he started to cry. “I wanted you,” Harry sobbed. “I wanted you to want me.”

    Snape wept too. “I’m here, I’m here now.”

    Harry pressed Snape’s wand into his hand, but the man didn't let his hand go, holding onto his wand and Harry's fingers with equal possessiveness. “Severus, I forgot — we need to leave. Ron is upstairs. We need to go before they come to separate us. They know everywhere I would go. Please… please…”

    “ _Apparate!”_

    They landed in a bathroom. It wasn’t run down like Spinner’s End, nor was it fancy. It was clean, and plain, and the lights were off, only a dull glow from the windows outside the room to light them. Branded products clustered by the sink — a hotel. It was good no one appeared to have been renting the room currently — though Harry didn’t care about any of this once he saw the shower he was being angled towards.

    “Don’t wash it off,” he panicked. “Don’t _you_ take you away from me too!”

    “We need to,” Snape said, but he was in pain, too, Harry could see it. “You wouldn’t choose this for yourself.”

    “I think I _love_ you,” Harry yelled then, grabbing him by the arms. “Don’t you understand?”

    “If you love me then… get in the shower.”

    Snape was crying again.

    “Don’t do this. Don’t sacrifice what we have together —”

    “You hated me this morning —”

    “I never! When I was a foolish child perhaps —”

    Snape snorted, hands coming up to cover his stricken face.

    “I’ve needed you since nineteen-ninety-eight,” Harry confessed. “I’ve needed you to _see_ _me_ since then. When I thought you were dead, and called you with the stone, and you didn’t come. I need you now. Please, don’t wash it off… Severus…”

    But the man grabbed him up then, lifting him into his arms and stepping into the shower. Snape turned it on with a flick of his wand, not even closing the curtains, even though the water splashed off of their bodies and coated everything in the room.

    Harry wailed and sobbed and hit at Snape's arms and chest, though he did so lightly because he adored the man and didn't _really_ want to hurt him. For his part, Snape wept bitterly into his hair as his hands gently washed away every last trace of the potion from Harry's skin and clothing.

    “I love you. Don't forget me,” the man chanted. Harry slumped against him then, wanting what the love of his life wanted, and washed the man in return.

    “I don't want to lose you,” Harry hiccuped, using the sample-size Muggle shampoo to wash Snape's hair. Neither of them could stop crying all over the other, and they hadn't kissed since first succumbing in Spinner's End.

    “The potion will still last a while, we'll have until it wears off…”

    “But how long?” Harry pleaded, pulling the man close and pressing their cheeks together. “We didn't ingest it — how long until you stare at me with hate again? Until you spit my name out with disgust and insist you’ll never allow me close to you again? I c-can’t —”

    Snape held him through renewed sobbing. “You’ll be fine with it, you’ll see... it will make you happy, then…”

    “No it won’t,” Harry said in all surety. “I love you, Severus Snape.”

    Snape sighed then, so deep and profoundly that Harry thought the man must have the same stress relieving ability he did. “Let’s dry off.”

    They dried each other, rather than themselves, using the scratchy towels provided.

    “You can take these off,” Harry said, fingering the waistband of Snape’s wet boxers.

    “You cannot consent,” the man said in return, but it was a weak attempt and Harry knew Snape wanted him still.

    “ _Depulso_!” Harry intoned firmly, sending his own sodden robes, shoes, shirt, trousers, socks, and pants flying off his body smoothly. Snape gaped, eyes hungrily traveling over his body, licking his lips when he saw Harry’s erection defying gravity between them.

    “I consent,” Harry continued to disagree. “For you? I consent. I would have consented if you’d asked before the potion and I consent good and hard now. Do you need me to say it again?"

    Harry pushed Snape out of the loo and into the main room where a double bed took up most of the floorspace. "I am not as good a man as you. I will take everything I can of you while I can — even with the potion affecting you as well.”

    Harry shuffled closer, laying his hands on Snape’s face. “I want you,” he whispered, pressing a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I need you.” Another kiss to the other side. “ _Take me, Severus._ ”

    Snape made the next move, pressing his lips dead-center to Harry’s and snatching his body up against him like he had back in Cokeworth. “I cannot resist you,” he said, then kissed over Harry’s face before allowing himself to speak again. “You are too good to ignore, too perfect to deny, my _Harry…_ ”

    “Yes, Severus,” Harry exulted, tears falling again, but this time in victory, in relief, in desperate anticipation. They collapsed onto the bed, and without seeking permission Harry Banished Snape’s pants as well as his soggy socks and shoes. They entangled, reaching, groping, stretching, their mouths finding each other again and again, _worshipping_ each other as only they could… as they knew no one else _ever_ could.

    “I love you,” Harry cried out as he came into Snape’s mouth.

    “Please, Harry!” the man begged as Harry returned the favor.

    “I’m not ready for this to be over,” Harry whispered into his lover’s shoulder. “I don’t want the potion to fade. What if we keep dosing ourselves forever?”

    “Then you will be out of your mind — in danger every day on the job, and I will never know if your feelings are real. Especially if you die, thinking of me instead of the criminal you are trying to track down.”

    His voice was as bitter as Harry knew it could be, and Harry turned his head, kissing him to bring him back from the dark place in his head. In the afterglow, the kiss was different. Harry enjoyed the feeling without the desperate desire to merge his very essence with the man, how their lips moved against each other slowly, tasting.

    “Again?” Harry whispered against Snape’s lips, climbing back on top of him and rocking their hips together. He had hardened again while sucking the other man off, and Snape himself hadn't fully softened yet from his recent orgasm.

    “You want me again?” There was genuine shock in his voice. Snape must have felt how real the world was becoming.

    “I want you another ten, twenty, thirty times,” Harry groaned, grasping their lengths together in his hand. Snape's spent cock was quickly getting with the program as Harry gingerly stroked them, trying not to pull at either of their tender skins too roughly. “Now, tomorrow, the next day —”

    “You can’t mean that,” Snape said below him.

    “Watch me,” Harry challenged, giving up on the dry dual-handjob to take Snape in his mouth again.

    “Harry, no — Potter, wait — oh. No, don’t. Your mouth is so fucking —”

    Harry worked him over, feeling very in control. He knew the potion was wearing off but kept laving the flesh below him, teasing and taunting for as long as possible for he knew that as soon as he was done Snape would send him packing.

    “I want you,” he said, sparing a brief moment to say the words before swallowing as much of Snape’s length as he could.

    “Holy shi-hit that is — impossible, you can’t.”

    “Do.”

    “Oh, _fuck,_ Potter…”

    “Go on a date with me.”

    “Th-the potion —”

    “Has already worn off for me. Go on a date with me.”

    “All I can think about is your mouth, _Circe help me…_ ”

    “Please,” Harry whispered into the tip of Snape’s cock. “Don’t Disapparate on me again. Don’t shut me out.”

    “You were trying to ask me out back then?” Snape was panting, but still managed to sound completely incredulous.

    “No,” Harry said, licking at Snape to keep him interested in the going’s-on down below even though he'd slowed down. “I didn’t know what I wanted, I just knew I wanted it badly. This time, though, I know what I want. I want you. I want _you_ , Severus.”

    “Didn’t give you permission to call me —” His voice choked off as Harry took him deep again. “Oh, fuck. _Why_?”

    Harry sat up, keeping his hand wrapped firmly around the base of Snape’s cock but not stroking at that moment. “Maybe because you’re the strongest man I have ever known. Your honor even under the potion proves it even further. Because it was so easy to love you under the potion and I think it could be without it too. Because I’m married to my job but still so goddamned _lonely_. Because I’ve never been with a man but right now I feel so alive with your cock in my hand. You’re better than me, I can see it so clearly after all of this. I want to know you. A date. A fair date where you give me a chance. Where we try. Please.”

    “A single date won’t prove anything. First dates are notoriously awkward.”

    Harry dipped his head down to suckle at Snape’s tip again. “Oh?”

    “Plus, ah, what would it teach us? I saw you eat every day for six years. I don't need a refresher.”

    Harry hummed, taking him further into his mouth, rewarding his consideration.

    “Oh fu— how can you never have done this before?”

    “I don't know but I'm really enjoying it.”

    “Oral fixation.”

    “Yeah, fixated on you.”

    Snape sighed. “The potion hasn't worn off yet.”

    “If that were still true I'd be up by your face snotting all over you still, whining about you leaving me.”

    “Hmm.”

    “I won't let you come until you promise me a date.”

    “I figured that out.”

    Harry laughed. “I can keep going even after you agree,” he offered.

    “Then come to my place. I'll make dinner and we'll get drunk and prattle on about how wrong we were about each other.”

    “Wow. Really? Yes, totally. When?”

    “When do you think the Aurors will be gone?”

    “Er — probably as soon as you're checked over by a medi-witch and I'm not missing in action anymore. I'll have to go through a debriefing and a stack of paperwork, though.”

    “Bring the paperwork. Tomorrow's the weekend and you'll have something to do in the refractory time.”

    “Er —” Harry's mind caught on the possibilities that statement implied and he almost forgot the length in his hand entirely. “Yeah?”

    “ _Accio conditioner_! Come up here, Potter. You've convinced me to give you a chance. We'll do it the way you intended before.”

    “Conditioner, not the lotion?”

    “It doesn't dry as quickly and a little bit of water makes it perfectly slick again.”

    Harry climbed up Snape’s body, and the man forcibly moved his hips into position, bollocks to bollocks.

    “You feel so good,” Harry murmured as their cocks were stroked together. Snape thrust carefully as well, so not only was his hand moving along their flesh, his shaft was sliding up and down Harry’s as well. Snape’s hand — Snape’s cock — the knowledge, the sight,  _Merlin,_ even the sex musk in the air — it was _incredible._

    Harry threaded his hands through the hair at the base of Snape’s skull and pressed their foreheads together. “Can I kiss you?”

    “I do believe we crossed the bridge where you have to ask that.”

    Snape’s voice came out breathy and hot against Harry’s cheek, and the sound of it made him even more determined to make Snape _his_ so he could hear it just like that as often as possible.

    “The potion’s gone,” Harry murmured, letting his mouth drift over his lover’s but not gifting more than the lightest brush. “It’s just us making these decisions now. I want you to want me.”

    A sharp twist of Snape’s hand curved their lengths around each other harshly, and Harry cursed at the unexpected pain. “Why the fuck do you think I’m continuing this assignation so generously, Potter? Might I remind you _I_ am the one bringing you pleasure right now while you hover uselessly.”

    “Wasn’t so useless four minutes ago,” Harry said, surly.

    “No, you weren’t. I believe that means we both are actively bringing something to the cauldron, am I wrong?”

    “Bringing something to the table,” Harry corrected, closing his eyes against the wonderful hand which had gone back to stroking properly.

    “Kiss me, you absolute imbecile and stop creating problems where none exist.”

    “To shut you up...” Despite their banter Harry kissed Snape slowly, sloppily, trying to convey the softness in his chest, the wonder that the man who sacrificed every good and pleasant thing to save the world was under his body right at that moment, was loving him between his legs…

    “Potter, you better be close,” Snape said then, arcing a bit as his passion swept him up.

    “It’s okay, keep going, I want to see you…”

    Harry reached his own hand down, helping to keep the rhythm as Snape’s face furrowed in a deep frown, cum splashing between them and rewetting the conditioner, making them slide messily against each other. Then, almost as if he was fighting against it, his eyebrows pushed together and up in a perfect expression of helplessness, mouth stretched wide as if in despair that he’d exposed so much of himself.

    “Beautiful,” Harry choked. Black eyes snapped open just as Harry, ensorceled by that incredible expression, came also, crying out and rocking slightly as the pleasure devastated him — unable to fight the feeling that his very being was warring to fall to pieces over Snape.

    Afterwards they linked their gloppy hands and Harry rolled to the side to stare at the ceiling alongside Snape, and they paused — breathing, not rushing to clean up right away.

    “That was so amazing that I can’t believe this is real life. How did you agree to this so quickly? Dating again, I mean.”

    “I’ve been working on that blasted antidote every day for a month, Potter. Every day, with fumes that penetrate every version of Shield Charm and Bubble-Head Charm-similar that I could think of. I’ve been worn down. It was bound to happen.”

    “Would you have approached me, then?”

    “No. I have not entirely let go of my life's goal to die alone.”

    “It feels like something I’ve been missing since the war is finally in it’s right place.”

    “That is very forthright.”

    “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

    “I am uncomfortable.”

    “I’m coming after you, Snape. You might as well let go of the idea of having walls because I’m going straight for your heart.”

    “Am I dating a crazy person?”

    Harry laughed. “Giddy, I think. There really has been a… a hole. I think it’s been you.”

    “Sappy. Call me by my first name.”

    “Yes, Severus. You too.”

    “Fine… Harry.”

    Harry smiled, squeezing their gross hands together and feeling that place in his chest which was now so full — fuller than he had any idea it _could_ be. There’d been an empty gulf inside him since viewing this man’s memories in the Headmaster’s office. A deep and wide place of pain and loss, an awareness of the fucked nature of life and death and magic. He hadn’t known this perfectly complicated man beside him which had been it’s cause would be the perfectly complicated cure as well.

    “We should go. I know you are dedicated to your work,” Snape said finally.

    “I am. They can wait.”

    Snape squeezed his hand in response. Harry closed his eyes, ignoring the sting along their edges, and concentrated on memorizing the way he felt just then. Happy, heavy, free.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add a follow-up. After all, there is a mad lad running about dosing people with Harry-specific Amortentia...


End file.
